


Echoed Fates

by firjii



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, krem defends an elf, krem protects a timid and put-upon elf who isn’t yet brave enough to tell other people “no means no”, mild violence, vague implied dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firjii/pseuds/firjii
Summary: Krem confronts – and narrowly stops – an overeager man who has selfish and abusive intentions towards an elf woman.





	Echoed Fates

Krem yawned again as he shuffled down the steps to the lower courtyard. It was too early to be awake, but there were a few things in life that he was willing to make the effort for. The new war nug was one of them. They said it was bigger than a druffalo but almost as docile as the normal sort of nug. How could it be true? He hadn’t believed the tales, but when even old Master Dennet mentioned the beast’s arrival with a quaver in his voice, Krem knew that it was worth taking seriously.

He squinted in the keen morning sun, already dazzlingly bright thanks to Skyhold’s altitude and the omnipresent mountain snow. Several scouts sleepily greeted him as they tended small cooking fires – ever since Halamshiral, new waves of recruits had inundated Skyhold and the kitchens could no longer keep up with demand.

Krem’s face fell for an instant. The stalls were walled off thanks to some unusually high winds nearby in the past few weeks. Snow never seemed to touch the grounds inside Skyhold’s walls, but wind sometimes _did_. Dennet had clearly chosen to err on the safe side. Krem wouldn’t be able to size the nug up from a distance. _Perfect._ Krem grinned.

Dennet’s leathery scowl was strangely absent from the stable yard. Maybe it always was this time of day – he was getting old, after all, and maybe he’d tricked some cocky youngsters into morning duties – although Krem had never heard of a farmer who wasn’t with his animals in the morning.

Before Krem could put his hand to the stall door’s latch, a rustling stopped him. Dogs sleeping in the straw? He peered around in the open yet densely-shadowed barn. He didn’t need to look very hard. In the far corner of the room, a man of forty years or so – Fereldan by the looks of him – was huddled with a woman, a freckly elf.

Krem smirked for an instant. There were enough wars in the world just now. It was always a relief to see people getting along, especially when one of them was an elf. They were kissing. Except –

– except something was wrong. Krem stared. Was he imagining it? It was still easy for him to see things that weren’t there. There were all sorts and he didn’t judge. But –  

No. The man had a strong grasp on the elf’s bony forearm – too strong. It wasn’t an embrace. It was – something else. Krem’s stomach clenched. The lout wasn’t doing much else just then, but it was clear enough. Lovers didn’t do that – not unless they were Bull’s sort. Krem’s heart danced high in his throat unbidden. He swallowed and reminded himself that he was armed. He had a dagger in his belt. He was stronger (and probably quicker) than either of them. He took several steps inside. “Everything alright in here?” he called out across the otherwise empty barn.

The elf flinched at the sound. Her irregular movement made the man stop and peer over his shoulder. He grinned. “Never seen two people having a moment, eh?”

Krem didn’t look at him. He only looked at the woman. “You two come in here a lot?”

“What’s it matter to you? Get your own girl.”

Krem’s pulse raced. He knew how this would go. He watched the lout resume his – display. The woman watched Krem through half-closed slits for eyes, as if she couldn’t decide who to look at or whether she wanted to look at _anything_.

Krem froze. It was only for an instant, but it was still too long. In that one tiny instant, he was immobilized, strong but useless. It was that day all over again. He was there, and so were they. His focus flailed and swirled. He reached for a way to keep the lout talking, to start an argument, anything at all that would shift his attention from the girl. Krem cleared his throat. “I didn’t know anyone had picked this out as a spot.”

The lout craned his head around in an angry sweep. “Piss off, ’Vint.”

Krem still didn’t look at the man – only the elf. “Not a bad plan as these things go. Whose idea was it?” His voice was calm, casual, even musical.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t blink. She stared back. Hard.

The lout snickered. “Does it matter?”

Krem clenched and unclenched his jaw. “She your wife?”

“What –” His eyes pinched into confused peering as he sneered. “’Course not.”

“Good. I’d be even _more_ pissed off if you’d said she _was_.”

“Keep your ’Vint nose out of it.” The lout turned his attention back to the elf, who was still speechless. She hadn’t even made a sound.

Krem strode forward with a bounce and bridged the distance between them in a few steps. “I’m not a ’Vint any more than you’re a Fereldan. We’re all just Inquisition now, or did you forget that?”

The lout spat at Krem’s feet.

Krem rounded on him. The spry elf tucked away from them like a trained dancer. Krem didn’t punch the lout. He didn’t kick him, either. Instead, he grabbed at a muscle on either side of the fool’s neck and clamped down hard. A strange howl rang all the way through the barn rafters. The lout was down in ten seconds, grabbing at his neck as if someone had threatened a porcelain teacup with a warhammer. 

 _Now_ Krem kicked him – once in the chest, once in a shin, and once…where he would remember the entire experience best. But not hard enough to make him bleed, no. Not hard enough to kill him, or even to break a bone. That would’ve been too simple. Truth be told, Krem carried a list in his mind of people who needed special – _persuading_. No, he wouldn’t kill him. He wasn’t a merc so he could slaughter people. He wasn’t with the Inquisition to earn a reputation as a butcher.

Krem knelt down next to the moaning excuse of a human being crumpled in the deep straw. “That was a warning,” he murmured near his head. “You only get one. Understand?”

The lout nodded.

“I don’t want you near her again. I don’t want you near _any_ woman if she’s not your family – and I hope you don’t have one here, if you act anything like _that_ to them. I won’t say this again. Clear enough for you?”

The lout nodded again.

Krem watched for a moment. He sneered and stood. “Get out.”

The lout took a few precious seconds for his aches to subside enough to stand. He half-tottered and half-loped out of the barn without a word.

Krem listened for fading footfall. He stared out for a long time before he remembered the elf trembling on the ground a few yards away from him. He took a deep breath and tried to soften his face as he turned around to look at her. “Are you–”

“ _Don’t_.” Her palm was a stiff plank at the end of her angular arm. She stood clumsily.

Krem desisted. It was simple enough to understand without using empty words. “But _are_ you? Alright, I mean.”

She sniffled. As she drew the back of a hand up to wipe her sniffling nose, Krem noted the bruises – some of them much older than others. 

“Did _he_ do that? Fereldans can be tougher than they need to be.”

Her face wrinkled into annoyance and confusion as her head wagged tightly. “Leave me alone.” Her accent was strong and her voice was a curious mixture of up-and-down lilting, the sort that always came before tears.

“You’re hurt.”

She scoffed. “I’ve had worse.”

Krem’s lips straightened and tensed. He glanced around. They were alone. “Look, if he –” But the words stuck in his throat.

“If he _what_?” Her brow leapt up and then hooked dangerously. It was a dare. It was a dare that Krem didn’t want to answer.

“You should tell someone.”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“He did _plenty_. I saw your face, and those bruises didn’t get there by themselves.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about that.”

“You _should_.” His voice was louder than he meant it to be. He gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, it’s just–”

“It’s finished. It’s done.” She sighed loudly and tightly. She ran a hand through her hair and suddenly closed her eyes. “Thank you, but I don’t need any more help. Nothing happened.”

“He came close to it. Too close.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s still close enough.”

“What would _you_ know about it?”

Krem’s arms were casually squared, but his hands quietly went to fists at his sides. He fought the urge to white-knuckle them around something. He made them unclench before she could notice. “Has he tried before?”

She snorted. “He’s too busy joking with his friends.”

“But you’ve seen him around?”

“He’s just an old drunk. He probably couldn’t even do much if he tried.” She jerked her head up and flicked her eyes all around Krem. Her gaze was as sharp as the lines of her tiny frame. “You soldiers are all the same.” She jabbed her chin out on each word. “You get so cocky with your uniforms and duties and pledges. Before you know it, you’re the same things you claim to fight.”

“We could still punish him. We could banish him.”

She snorted. “In war, all things are possible. I know what that really means. So should you.”

Krem swallowed very hard and very carefully. He grimaced a fraction. “Get patched up and go make a complaint. They’ll believe you. They’ll help. They won’t let it stand. He’ll be gone by the end of the day.”

“Others will be here soon enough to take his place.”

“No, they _won’t_.”

“He’s a useful man. He’s a smith. I know all about him. He certainly talks about himself enough in the tavern.”

“You still don’t have to take that from him.”

“He’s bigger than me.”

“You don’t have to take that from _anyone_.”

A dry sob escaped her. She waved a defeated hand in the air before she folded her arms tightly. “I’m a servant. I’m an elf. I’m Orlesian. They already have enough reasons to hate me. Why should I give them another?”

“The Inquisition doesn’t care about _any_ of those things – or they _try_ not to, anyway. Why should _you_?”

“You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what it is to rely on men.”

Krem’s forehead couldn’t hide the frown that the words sparked. “I run with a merc band. I’ve seen hard men, clever men, stupid men, arsehole men.”

“But you had the chance to fight back. You’re their equal.”

Krem stared. He hadn’t told many people. There hadn’t been much point yet. He was who he was. This elf – this despairing, half-starved girl with ropy muscles and sun-kissed skin and more freckles than he could count – she was no different. Without blinking, he drew up breath from a cavernous depth. “So are you.”

Her mouth opened, but not to parry him back.

They stared at each other for a very long moment. Krem walked towards the open double door. He stopped and bit his lip. “He can’t be punished if you won’t complain, but I’ll have him sent away by tomorrow. That’s a solemn pledge.” He nodded once, slowly and firmly.

She didn’t react. She still shook so badly that it was a wonder she could stand at all. She still fought back sobs. But she returned his nod.

"And Josephine can find you a proper room with a locking door by tonight.”

He left the barn. He hadn’t seen the damn war nug yet, and he didn’t _want_ to now. Some things needed time and solitude. She hadn’t told him the whole story. He wouldn’t try to get it out of her.

But by the time he’d reached the great stone steps leading to the upper level, rushed jogging echoed out behind him. “Why would you do all this?” she hollered out across the distance.

He stopped and turned, his foot barely on the first step. A smile, small but as warm as a hearth, grew on his face. He shrugged and shook his head. “Why _wouldn’t_ I?”  


End file.
